Easter Bunny: Unplugged

It has come to my attention that perhaps, subconsciously, Noah knows the real identity of the Easter Bunny.

Earlier today, we dyed eggs and took loads of pictures to share with Daddy.



Then, we mixed up some homemade Rice Krispie treats and put Peeps on them so that each square is embellished with a Peep.


We ate dinner and each had a Rice Krispie treat for dessert and then the time came for the kids to get ready for bed. We assembled the eggs in each child's basket ready to be hidden and replaced by chocolate. And then, I opened the fridge to retrieve the carrot we leave out for the Easter Bunny every year to nosh on. All that hopping and hiding of eggs has to leave a fella a little famished. But, much to my surprise, we were out of carrots. I tried so hard to remember everything and yet I forgot the stinkin' carrots!

Noah suggested we leave him/her a Rice Krispie treat instead. I thought that was a great idea! I inquired as to what Noah thought a holiday critter might like to drink to quench his/her thirst. Without missing a beat, Noah replied, "I think the Easter Bunny would LOVE a glass of wine!" (Why yes, she would most definitely LOVE a glass of wine!)

And so, that is how we came to leave the Easter Bunny a Rice Krispie treat and a glass of wine.

Noah has been elevated to "favorite" on the Easter Bunny's list and I am sure the Bunny will be certain to relay Noah's kind and generous deed to Santa.

Happy Easter.

And.. Cheers!

** I linked up my post today with Jennifer at Momma Made it Look Easy- Share Your Awesome- if you have an awesome post, go over and link it up!**

Our Newest Family Member

My husband has been trying to talk me into getting a dog since we got married ( 12 years ago). It isn't that I don't like dogs, there has just always been a reason NOT to get one. At first, we lived overseas and didn't know how often we would move. Dogs don't handle overseas flights and moving often as well as cats, so we got a cat.

Then, when we moved back State-side, we lived in base housing with a backyard the size of a matchbox. Okay, not really, but it was really small with no grass- they just poured cement for a patio and fenced around the patio. That was it. Behind the fence was the parking lot, so there was nowhere for the dog to run and play.

Then, when we realized the military didn't plan on moving us from here, we bought a house- with a back yard. But Noah was eighteen months old and I was being selfish and didn't want to have to take care of and clean up after a dog AND a needy baby.

About the time Noah was old enough to not require so much work, we had Zoe and then a repeat of the above paragraph.

Now, Zoe is three-years-old and in preschool. Our neighbors just got a puppy about a month ago and my husband and both of my children love her. They talk about her all the time and like to go over there and play with her. I knew it was coming. My husband started about a dog again. There is also the fact that he will deploy in the winter and be gone for four months. I really would feel safer with an extra set of ears in the house while he is gone. But, I just got my "baby" out the door to preschool and I was adamant that I did NOT want a puppy. They're cute, but I was in no mood to have another thing that whines in the night, tears up things around the house and needs to be potty trained/house-broken.

The compromise was to adopt an adult dog. I liked the idea of rescuing a dog that someone else had given up anyway. My husband had boxers growing up and really wanted one of them, so we decided to go through our local boxer rescue program. We filled out the paperwork, had someone come do a home visit to approve us, our home and our yard to adopt a dog. We were approved and had already found a dog in the online gallery that we thought would be a good fit. Most of the dogs were recommended for children 12 and older but this one said for children three and older. We made an appointment to go meet her this past weekend and drove two hours to meet her. We fell in love and she seemed to love us, so we brought her home with us.

Once we got home, she jumped out of the car and ran the perimeter of our yard and then started hopping and bouncing around like she wanted to play. We threw a ball and she brought it back to us. We asked her to "drop it" and she did. We told her to "sit" and she did. She's a really good dog and has already attached herself to the kids. She gets very excited when they come home from school. She doesn't jump up on people, she just wags her entire butt and licks them to death. She also doesn't get on the furniture.

At bedtime Sunday night, we weren't sure where she was used to sleeping and had showed her the bed in the corner of the family room. She sniffed the bed and came and laid down at my feet while we were watching television, so I suggested we take her dog bed in our room and maybe she would sleep in there. But, we turned off the television and the light and she got up, grabbed her toy and went and curled up on her bed in the corner of the family room and went to sleep. Wow. We didn't hear a peep out of her until the next morning when my alarm went off and I heard her get up and come down the hallway. She peeked into our room a little hesitant and then just came on in and greeted us.

I think we got lucky. This is an awesome dog. She is such a sweetie. So, without further ado, I want to introduce you to Lindy- our 5-year-old new addition to our family:




This is being linked to Wordful Wednesday at Parenting by Dummies.

Carnal Instincts

Have you ever had a moment ( or half hour or so) where all rational thought and self control completely desert you and you are overtaken by your primal instincts?

No, I'm not talking about THAT.

I'm talking about something even more basic to our needs, the very core of our survival.

I'm talking about food.

You see, I'm a bit of a picky eater. I have entire food categories I won't eat because of their texture, but this post is not about that, it's about one food group in particular. Meat.

I don't eat seafood of any kind. I only eat turkey if it is smoked. I don't like pork, except for bacon which I don't like to fry, so unless someone else is frying it for me (which is never) then I don't eat that either. So, it's safe to say that I don't eat pork. I also have a tumultuous relationship with red meat. I mean, for the sake of variety and sanity of my husband, I will eat red meat on occasion. Otherwise we would be eating nothing but chicken. But, I never just sit around and think, " You know what I really want? A nice juicy steak." It's just not something I crave.

In fact, I often think I could become a vegetarian without much loss.

Until I encounter barbecue. I mean, I was born and raised in Texas. Barbecue is in my blood- literally. The maternal side of my family was obsessed with barbecue and had their own family recipe for sauce. We had frequent barbecues growing up, complete with a pit made from a hollowed-out drum. Only charcoal was used for cooking. None of that propane stuff! It's pretty serious business to a Texan, and this former-Texan can tear up a brisket and pick a rib clean enough for presentation in a museum when prepared properly (i.e. smoked, tender and covered in a yummy barbecue sauce).

So, yeah. I don't encounter much barbecue in the northeast, thus I am fooled into believing I live this almost-vegetarian lifestyle. That is until the occasion presents itself (as it did yesterday) that we stop in at a Famous Dave's restaurant.

We were on our way home from the shore and stopped in for a late lunch. Upon walking through the front door, the smell of smoked meat and barbecue sauce overcame me. I felt weak in the knees. The primal instincts were kicking in. I swear I felt my incisors lengthen and sharpen in preparation for me to get my carnivore on. I don't remember much after that. The plate of food was set before me and I went into a frenzy. A little later ( I have no concept as to how much time had passed) I came out of my trance and looked around. My husband and children were staring at me horrified. I had meat in my teeth and barbecue sauce all over my hands and face. But I was sated, so, ignoring the stares of the rest of my party, I smiled and opened my moist towelette and began cleaning my hands and face. And fingernails. And a little out of my hair. And maybe a smidge that was in my ear.

Now, feeling completely in control of myself again, I began small talk regarding the flavor of the brisket, comparison and contrast of the different sauces and inquired wether or not my husband was going to eat his cornbread muffin. I was slightly embarrassed at the thought of what my husband and children might have witnessed previously, but decided it best not to mention it.

Everything seemed so normal. Perhaps it was a gross over-exaggeration on my part and it hadn't been quite so bad after all. Yes, I had quite convinced myself that what I had actually just experienced was a lovely meal with my family and nothing else.

I voiced just that opinion of the state of things as I was packing my leftovers into the container. Zoe reached her tiny little arm over mine into my styrofoam container and suddenly I snapped at her like a dog defending his bone. " STAY OUT OF MY FOOD, ZOE! YOU DON'T EVEN LIKE THE MEAT ANYWAY!" Two wide little eyes stared up at me and then she squeaked, "I want fry fry, Mommy."

" Oh, french fries. Alright. You can have one of those."